


Our Ladies of Eventual Realization

by phonecallfromgod



Series: Our Ladies [2]
Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Coming Out, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Pining, Post-Season 2, The Great American Challenge, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod
Summary: St. Bernie's sends itself into another tailspin when Season 2 of American Vandal drops. Couples are breaking up left and right, friends aren't talking to each other, oh and Tori Carucci's having a sexuality crisis.Don't worry though, Skip Day's just around the corner, and nothing brings people together like the Great American Challenge.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sam Ecklund/Peter Maldonado, Tori Carucci/Suzanne Lewis
Series: Our Ladies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644370
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Our Ladies of Eventual Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Miss me? It's been a hot minute, and now I return with perhaps my nichest most indulgent fic to date. I hope you guys enjoy and happy Femslash February!

Chloe Lyman’s throwing a huge watch party for the second season of American Vandal, and there’s no way in hell Tori’s going. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Suzanne goads her, like she’s not the one who had beef with Chloe in the first place. Suzanne still eats lunch with her and Molly and Riley, but the frosty ice wall between her and Chloe seems to have melted away after The Dump and summer vacation.

“Oh gee whiz, I sure want to sit ten feet away from Kevin McClain while everyone at school says how weird he is,” Tori says. “I watched season one. No thanks.” 

“That’s right, he’s off house arrest now, right?” Riley says, only half looking up from her chemistry homework. 

“Yeah, Chloe told me he’s going to Central now,” Suzanne says, playing with the pendant on her necklace, pulling it back and forth along the chain absentmindedly. Tori got her that necklace for her birthday, a little gold star with an S stamped on it. Suzanne wears it a lot now. 

Molly laughing snaps Tori out of her reprieve. “Oof, public school.” 

“I think it’ll honestly be good for him,” Suzanne says. “And maybe seeing the doc with a bunch of other people will be good for him too.” 

“Why don’t we just have our own watch party? I could make that cheese dip thing we made for Molly’s birthday,” Tori says, leaning further into Suzanne. “Pretty please with cinnamon and sugar on top?” 

“Are you volunteering to host?” 

“Psssh, no, we should do it at Molly’s, she throws the best parties.” 

“I do throw the best parties,” Molly says, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Fine,” Suzanne concedes. “If you’re cool with that Mol, I’ll text Chloe and tell her I can’t make it.” 

She knows it’s not very nice, but Tori can’t help but feel incredibly smug about it. 

“Did you really say anything that bad about Kevin?” Riley asks later when they’re walking from free period to chem. “I barely remember what I said about anyone.” 

“Me neither,” Tori says. 

“Partially because it’s been a while and partially because, you know. Peter,” 

Tori nods, she does vaguely remember that she defended Grayson Wentz at one point, something that makes her stomach turn over whenever she thinks about it too long. But other than that, it’s a big brown void exactly the same colour as Peter Maldonado’s eyes. 

Riley sighs. “God. Those were the good old days.” She tightens her grip on her chem textbook, hugging it to her chest with a little sigh. Like she’s remembering a bygone era and not literally six months ago. 

“That was last semester.”

“Yeah, but we’re seniors now! Whole new ball game.” 

“Same old ball players,” Tori says. “God I can’t wait to be swimming in new people next year.” 

“You’re too picky,” Riley says, pulling open the chem class door for her. “A guy has to be like _perfect_ or you’re not interested at all.” 

“That is _so_ not true.” 

Riley tosses her hair over her shoulder. “M’kay.” 

“I just want someone I can have a conversation with that isn’t just a lead-up for sex.” She can see Paul Schnorrenberg turn and glare at her out of her peripherals but she ignores him. “Like, what do you and Andrew even _talk_ about?” Riley and Andrew Lundgarden had been an on-and-off again thing all summer, but they’d decided to make a real go of it now that school’s started up.. They’re facebook official and everything. Tori keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Riley frowns at her, pulling out her pencil case. “Don’t be mean.” 

Tori opens her mouth to apologize, but Mrs. Gallagher comes through at that moment, telling everyone to put everything away save for a writing utensil, and Tori doesn’t get a chance to before a test is set in front of her. 

Since Molly is hosting, Tori and Suzanne get stuck on snack pick-up duty. Not that Tori really minds because she can make sure she gets all the snacks she likes, darting across aisles at Trader Joe’s while Suzanne mans the cart. 

“God I want some chocolate peanut butter cups,” Tori says, looking at a tub of them longingly. 

“Get them!” Suzanne says. She’s wearing a jean skirt and a striped t-shirt, hair in two french braids that curl behind her ears. Something about the whole thing makes Tori think about summer camp. Not that she’s ever been to summer camp but like, she’s seen movies. 

“I can’t, Molly’s little brother has a peanut allergy.” 

“Isn’t he like, 13?” Suzanne asks. 

“Oh god, yeah he is, don’t remind me,” Tori says. “He’s going to be a freshman next year and I’ve seen him pick his nose and eat it.” 

“I mean to be fair I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some guys in our grade do that.” 

“Oh my god stop, that’s so gross!” Tori gives her a half playful shove as they round the corner and walk almost smack into Jenna Hawthorne, looking over the back of a package of couscous intently. 

“Hey Jenna,” Tori says after a long (long) pause, when it becomes abundantly clear that if she doesn’t say something that no one will. 

“Hi,” Jenna says, and then looks down pointedly in their cart. “Looks like someone’s having a party.” It’s not a secret that multiple people at their school are having watch parties tonight, the doc has basically been the only thing anyone’s talked about all week. Still, Jenna manages to look disapprovingly over their selection of snacks.

Which, okay, Tori has to actively hold back a snort because she _knows_ that Jenna got invited to the pre-screening, and at the very least attended the after party because it was all over her insta. 

Still. It does probably suck to have everyone ramped up and excited to rewatch the worst thing that ever happened to you, so Tori, for once, ignores her first instinct to be snarky and shrugs. “Yeah we’re gonna check out the doc but we didn’t wanna do something too over the top, I mean. We know what happens. So it’s just going to be a few people at Molly Hearst’s. You should come by if you want.” 

“Hmm, thanks but no thanks,” Jenna says, setting her couscous back on the shelf. “Oh, Peter and Sam said hi by the way. Not to you two specifically but to “the girls” which,” She makes a face that is judgemental but not unkind, “I figured could only be you guys.” 

“Well, I guess it’s one way to be remembered,” Suzanne says when Jenna slinks off. 

“Yeah maybe they’ll thank us in their Emmy’s acceptance speech. Thanks to all the girls at St. Bernie’s who gave me a huge ego boost with their lack of gaydar!” Tori says, clutching at her chest melodramatically. For a long time the weird guilt-shame-self loathing spiral about Peter and Sam had been a mental bruise, blotchy and blue and tender to the touch. 

But now. Suzanne laughs, nose crinkling, and Tori finds that she genuinely doesn’t care if two Emmy award nominated documentarians think she’s a bit stupid. 

The watch party turns out to be less tight-knit than Tori had hoped, Molly inviting a few other people, Jen Wiggins, Olivia Iles and Olivia Bogosky — plus Riley invited Andrew and some of his friends — but they all fit pretty comfortably onto Molly’s huge leather sectional. Tori’s right in the corner, squished between Suzanne and Molly, the latter of whom has her hands pressed over her eyes for almost all of the first episode. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Molly says. “Oh my god why is it so much grosser than I remembered!? I was there!” 

“I think we all just kind of trauma-blocked it,” Tori says, her plate of snacks entirely untouched even as Andrew Lundgarden crunches loudly on kettle chips the other side of Molly. Tori’s genuinely trying to be nicer to him, especially after Riley was miffed with her for like, a whole week after the pre-chem crack. But like, seriously dude, can you not?

It’s somehow both more and less weird than she’d expected to see herself in the doc; there’s a detachment from the whole thing just because it’s been so long and she honestly only remembers about twenty percent of what she said. There’s also a ton of stuff she knows instinctively is out of order, questions she wasn’t asked until almost the end of filming coming up in the early episodes. It’s so weird to imagine Peter and Sam cobbling through the footage like that, pulling together a narrative that seems to make linear sense, even if that’s not how they gathered it at all. 

Still. It’s fun, everyone cheering whenever someone at the party appears on screen in the first few episodes. Tori lets herself be drawn in by the absurdity of the whole thing. Stops trying to keep track of when she said what and just lets Peter and Sam weave the story they want to tell her. She’s melting further into the sectional, head and shoulders pressed into Suzanne, who doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

“Okay, one more and then we’re ordering dinner,” Molly says when episode three ends. 

“I thought you said you were too grossed out to eat,” Riley says. 

“That was then and this is now,” Molly says, hitting the autoplay for the next episode. 

Tori feels rather than hears Suzanne’s phone buzz, and they both shuffle awkwardly so she can retrieve it from her pocket again. She looks without meaning to look, seeing Chloe’s name flash on the display before Suzanne rolls her eyes and shoves it under her thigh. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” Suzanne says, and adjusts so she can curl her arm around Tori, adjusting to get more comfortable. 

They’re most of the way through episode four, Tori’s only really half paying attention honestly, mind already wandering towards possible order options for dinner, when Jenna’s introductory section snags her attention. 

Tori opens her mouth to say something about Kevin McClain being a hypocrite when suddenly Suzanne’s on screen again. 

“ _Jenna’s Instagram was perfect, like she was always travelling with her girlfriend, taking pictures of them kissing at sunset on a yacht in Mykonos_ ,” Onscreen Suzanne says, in a tone of voice that’s almost. Wistful? Envious? 

Which yeah duh, who wouldn’t be envious of Jenna’s jet-setting adventures? 

But somehow, as rational as that is, Tori gets the feeling that’s not the answer she’s looking for. 

Tori sneaks out to Molly’s back deck as soon as she’s put in her dinner request, everyone else distracted by combing the online menu. She thought she was pretty slick but apparently not that slick because she’s only out there for two minutes before Molly’s following after her. 

“Hey,” Molly says, joining her on the step. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tori says. “It’s just. A lot. I’m glad we’re doing this here and not at Chloe’s with like, ten million people.” 

“Me too,” Molly says. 

“You’re the best host in the world,” Tori says, laying it on a little thick, but only because it’s fun to be nice to other people. Especially Molly, who never seems to get it back as much as she gets it. 

Molly comes to sit with her, leaning her head on Tori’s shoulder. “Remember at my fourteenth birthday party when we made that s’mores pie thing and it took a million years and was rock solid by the time it was done.” 

“And we ended up just having to put it in the oven,” Tori laughs. “Ahh the good old days.” 

“You sound like Riley! Everyone’s gotta stop being so being schoompey about senior year, it’s only September. Plus, change is good! We were like, not even really that close with Suzanne this time last year and now we’re like, bosom buddies.” 

“Bosom buddies?” Tori asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Alright, alright,” Molly says. “I was trying something different out and it failed.” 

They sit together for another minute, Tori trying to imprint into her brain the way everything is right now. The way Molly’s hair smells, the fuzziness of her sweater, the autumnal crispiness that is making Tori regret _not_ wearing a sweater. 

“Do you think Suzanne seemed weird when she was talking about Jenna?” Tori asks abruptly, the whole thing slipping out before she can think about what a terrible horrible idea that is. 

Molly sits up. “What do you mean?” 

_Bail, bail, bail,_ Tori’s mind blares at her, but it’s not like she can just get up and walk away now, so she tries to school her voice as nonchalant as possible. “You know, just like, when she was talking about her instagram?” 

Molly tilts her head, “Hmmm, I guess I don’t really remember what she said.” 

“It’s not that important, forget I said anything.” 

Molly’s eyebrows crinkle together and she opens her mouth like she wants to say something but doesn’t get there before the glass door slides open and Andrew Lundgarden is sticking his head outside. “Hey uh, Molly? We need your address and gate code and stuff. For the order?” 

“Yeah, coming,” Molly says, giving Tori a little squeeze on the arm as she walks past, and that’s kind of the end of it. 

“Guess who’s maaaad at me,” Suzanne sing-songs, catching Tori in the kitchen rinsing out takeout containers so they can be recycled. “I’ll give you a hint, it rhymes with Schmoey Slyman.” 

“Again?” Tori asks, trying to sound nonchalant, even though internally she gets a little shooting thrill at the implication that her animosity was entirely justified in the first place. 

“She didn’t like some of the stuff I said about Kevin. Which like, I thought I was pretty nice about Kevin! I like Kevin! But I was also trying to answer Peter honestly, and yeah, sometimes he’s a bit much at parties and stuff.” 

Tori doesn’t really know but she nods empathetically, throwing containers into the Hearsts’ tastefully colour-coded recycling bins. 

“Whatever, she’ll get over it,” Suzanne says. “Did you hear that Mia dumped Ethan Owens?” 

“Yeah apparently they had a huge blow up at Chloe’s thing, cause Mia was mad that he was so mean about Drew Pankratz and Ethan was mad about stuff _she_ said about DeMarcus.” 

“Jesus,” Tori says, “God, do you think this is going to be like the Brownout all over again?” 

It was undeniable that the Brownout had entirely rearranged the social structure of St. Bernie’s, but Tori had always thought that the documentary would lead to it being finally resolved. One big communal closure for everyone. She hadn’t thought for a second that it would lead to everything being blown to pieces a second time. 

“Hey,” Suzanne says. “Even if some stuff happens. Me, you, Molly, Riley? We’re rock solid, yeah? Nothing bad is going to happen. Not to us.” 

Tori doesn’t totally believe her, but she takes the hug when it’s offered. Suzanne beckoning her, “C’mere,” before putting her arms around her. Tori presses her face into the side of Suzanne’s neck and the two of them rock back and forth slightly in Molly’s empty kitchen, almost like slow dancing. 

“Hey, c’mon,” Riley says, bounding into the kitchen, the two of them pulling away from each other. “We’re gonna start episode five.” 

Riley seems completely unpreoccupied with the fact that she walked into the kitchen and saw them hugging, making a bee-line for the fridge and getting a glass of water. But Tori can’t help but feel strangely caught anyways. 

It’s Halloween and Tori is absolutely fucking _sauced_. 

Which you know what, she thinks she absolutely deserves after the last six weeks of absolute hell at St. Bernie’s. 

Mia Abend and Ethan Owens breaking up turning out to just be the tip of the fucking iceberg. September ended with so many breakups and friend group blowouts, Tori feels like she hasn’t had a lunch period in a month that didn’t involve at least two people getting into a screaming match. There’s even some teacher shake ups, with Mr. Fernandez opting for early retirement. 

Oh and also she’s having a gay crisis. So that’s fun. 

But hey, Hot Janitor’s back, so that was something Molly and Suzanne could be happy about at least. 

She knows it’s a stupid idea. Even drunk she knows that it’s a terrible horrible stupid fucking idea. But she’s in the corner of Andrew Lundgarden’s basement watching half a dozen couples making out, and she just feels so alone and awful and her phone is already ringing as she climbs back up the basement steps and weaves her way through the house party and back outside onto the Lundgarden’s front patio. 

“Hello?” Sam Ecklund says, and Tori pulls the phone away to check the caller ID, and yeah she definitely called Peter Maldonado. 

“Um, hi Sam,” Tori says. “Uh, it’s Tori? Carucci? From St. Bernardine’s?” She winces at the way uncertainty is making her phrase everything like a question. “This is Peter’s number, right? Or did I put it in my phone wrong.”

“No this is Peter’s phone,” Sam says. “Look Pete’s not uh, he’s not doing super great right now so maybe I could like take a message for you?” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, no just, he came to see me at Berkeley, cause I’m in, uh, we do a Rocky Horror Shadow cast here and stuff. Anyways there’s this big party after and we were going a little hard cause of, I don’t know if you know, about all the Netflix stuff?” 

Tori nods, and it takes her a second to remember that she’s on the phone and Sam can’t actually see her nodding. “Sorry, yeah, no. I heard. I still don’t really understand what happened. Are you like? Cancelled.” 

Sam sighs into the phone, “Kinda? Basically Netflix wanted us to produce another season for release in 2019 but that wasn’t really working with our schedules, so they still have the distribution rights for the first two seasons, but if-slash-when we do another season we’ll basically be pitching to them from scratch to pick it up.” 

“Huh, so. You’re basically cancelled but not technically.” 

“Yeah, basically,” Sam says. “It’s very dumb! We did a lot of shots.” 

“Me too,” Tori laughs. She’s kind of cold, but it’s kind of nice after the muggy close heat of the party. Normally her and Molly and Riley brainstorm an amazing group costume, but Riley is being the Catwoman to Andrew’s Batman this year. It had been mostly fine because Suzanne stepped in, better even because they’d talked about doing the Powerpuff Girls for years but none of them had been blonde. Still, standing outside in a green mini-dress isn’t exactly seasonally appropriate attire for a Washington autumn, even if she’s tougher in the cold than most thanks to ten years of figure skating. 

“...Tori?” Sam asks. 

“Fuck. Sorry. I’m kind of drunk. I’m at Andrew Lundgarden’s Halloween party.” 

“Look, why don’t I just have Peter call you back tomorrow? Okay?” Sam says, in a soothing slightly patronizing voice. 

“No, look I’m sorry, please just. Don’t hang up, okay?” Tori says. “I don’t have. There’s not anyone else I can talk to about this. Except you and Peter. I don’t— there’s no one else I can— ” 

“Okay, okay, I’m not going to hang up, it’s okay,” Sam says. “Oh fuck sorry one second,” he’s moved the phone away from his mouth, “ _Peter? Pete? You okay?_ ” 

Tori realizes suddenly she’s crying. When the hell did she start crying? 

“I’m back,” Sam says. “What’s up?” 

Tori takes a long deep inhale through her nose and then forces it out in a rush, “Howdidyouknowyouweren’tstraight?” 

“Pardon?” 

Tori’s heart thumps, and even her liquid courage seems to fail her for a second. “I just. How did you know, like. That you weren’t straight?” 

Sam gets very very quiet on the other side of the line. “You called _Peter_ to ask about this? You didn’t even know he was gay for like, months.” 

“Well I know _now_.” 

Sam sighs, “Look, I um. This is kind of a complicated topic and it’s pretty late and you’re drunk and I’m like. I’m not drunk but I had a few, and I think maybe there’s someone better equipped to help you with this.” 

Tori snorts. “Um, like _who_.” 

“Well Jenna Hawthorne,” Sam says, “Or Chloe. Chloe Lyman.” 

It would be funny if it wasn’t the worst possible options she’d ever heard, she laughs, dabbing at her eyes and coming away with green smudges of glitter from her makeup. “Are those my only options? Seriously?” 

‘Well, I mean. Google?” Sam supplies. “I’m sorry I know that’s not very— _Oh hello there Mr. Seven-Shots Maldonado_. Hey, look Tori I should really go and put the baby to bed, but I’ll get Peter to email you okay? It’ll all be okay, I promise.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Tori says, and then she stands there for a long time after he hangs up, phone still pressed to her ear. Her sense of time is a little wibbly, but she’s there long enough that she’s starting to sober up a little. 

“God, Tori, you are so fucking stupid,” she mutters to herself, finally pulling the phone away from her ear, pulling open her notes app to draft an apology text to Peter and Sam. She’s on her third attempt at trying to spell ‘intoxicated’ when the front door opens behind her. 

“There you are,” Suzanne says, closing the door behind her. “I just spent like ten minutes wandering around Andrew’s backyard in the dark.” 

“Why?” Tori asks, shoving her phone under her arm. Feeling caught and exposed even though it’s not like she’s _done_ anything.

“Cause I knew you’d be outside,” Suzanne says with a shrug, pulling one of her pigtails tighter. “Don’t give me that look, you’re not as slick as you think. Every party you inevitably get hot and-or annoyed and go outside to chill.” 

“That’s not— ” Tori starts and then frowns. Because yeah that. That is actually true. 

“Yeah can’t pull a fast one on me, Carucci,” Suzanne says, pulling her Juul out of her bra. Tori darts her eyes away. She’s found herself doing that more and more lately, at the rink, at the mall, just hanging out with Molly and Riley and— 

She’s doing it a lot, and gay crisis or not, she’s starting to find it kind of annoying. 

“You gotta stop with that crap,” Tori says. “You’re gonna wreck your lungs.” 

“I know,” Suzanne says, “I’m trying to cut back. I wanna quit for real after Skip Day. Which….speaking of….we still have an extra spot on our team if you want to join.” 

“Hmm, tempting,” she deadpans, and Suzanne laughs. She still thinks Riley and Suzanne (and Andrew) are crazy for teaming up with Chloe and Tanner to do the Great American Challenge. Partially because doing that with two couples is just asking for trouble. Hell just _doing_ the Great American Challenge is asking for trouble, so Tori’s not surprised they’re still looking for another person. 

“I do think it’s very sweet that you’re still mad at Chloe on my behalf, but I promise that everything between us is genuinely okay. We talked it out. I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re all fine.” 

“It’s not even that,” Tori says, even though having to be on a team with Chloe Lyman isn’t exactly a huge draw either. “I just don’t really want to puke up a sausage and jalapeno pizza in front of all my classmates, God, and a puzzle of Andrew Lundgarden’s mom.” 

“Fair,” Suzanne says, and takes another hit off her Juul. Tori watches the line of her neck as she exhales over her shoulder. She’s still wearing her star necklace. 

Tori feels dizzy, and she can only half blame it on the copious amounts of alcohol she’s consumed tonight. 

“C’mon,” Suzanne says, “Lets go find our gang and head home.” She holds out a hand but Tori’s not sure if she actually expects her to take it, or if it’s more of a symbolic gesture. Either way, she doesn’t take it. 

The next morning Tori wakes up to the worst hangover she’s ever had in her life and a very empathetic email from Peter Maldonado filled with links and the reiteration that maybe she should reach out to Jenna or Chloe. She’s not entirely sure what makes her head hurt more, the hangover or the thought of trying to talk to either of them about whatever the hell she’s going through.

Jenna Hawthorne starts eating lunch with them. And weirdly it has absolutely nothing to do with Tori. She just puts her tray down at their table one day, and Molly looks up from her phone and over at Tori, who has no clue what’s happening, and Riley looks at both of them over the top of a comic. But it’s not like any of them have a problem with Jenna or anything, so Suzanne just says, “Hey what did you get on that history quiz, I swear everything felt like a trick question,” and they just kind of. Get used to it. 

Even still, the idea of talking to Jenna about. Whatever. Is absolutely not happening. New leaf turned over and catfishing trauma aside, Jenna Hawthorne is not exactly a warm ray of sunshine. Besides, Tori has enough tough love for herself, thank you very much. 

Still, it’s kind of nice having someone who can inject their group with some gay energy. Especially since Riley and Andrew are still going strong. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jenna says, when her and Tori are waiting in the lunch line with their trays together, “He seems totally nice enough and whatever, But Riley is like a straight 9 and he’s like a straight 6.5.” 

“Yeah I don’t really get it. They’re both really into comics I guess? He works at that comics store downtown part time, so I guess she got hooked up with his employee discount.” 

“I’ll never understand you heterosexuals,” Jenna says, and Tori pushes down for not the first time the urge to distance herself from the term. 

She keeps googling ‘bisexual,’ starring at the definition that pops up like this will somehow uncloud the mystery that is her sexuality. On paper at least, it makes sense. But something about the word itself, somehow both overtly sexual and completely clinical, she’s struggling with. 

Being bi seems like something that exists, hypothetically, in a club or a party, but that Tori can’t quite stretch to encompass the complete averageness of her life. 

(And that’s not even getting into the weird religious feelings she’s having about it. Tori’s always felt that her relationship with God was more about a general spirituality than a specific doctorine, but you can’t go through 12 years of private Catholic school and not absorb at least _some_ not awesome messages about gay people.) 

“What’re we talking about?” Suzanne asks, coming up behind them, her usual Tuesday lunch combo (sesame chicken with vegetable fried rice, white chocolate macadamia nut cookie and a strawberry milk) on her tray already. 

“How Riley is waaaaay out of Andrew Lundgarden’s league,” Jenna says with a shrug. 

This is the real difference Tori thinks, between her and Jenna, that Jenna would actually say that outloud, whereas Tori would just think it. 

“Awww I think they’re sweet,” Suzanne says. 

“You would,” Jenna snorts, and okay what does _that_ mean.

“I will say though,” Suzanne continues. “That of the Lundgardens I always thought Travis was the hottest one.” 

“No comment,” Jenna says. 

“Yeah no Travis was really hot,” Tori says. “Though honestly I don’t really remember Craig or Jason that well.” 

“Hey are we still on for later?” Suzanne asks, reaching around Tori to grab a stack of napkins. 

“Later?” Tori asks, at the exact same time Jenna says, “Yeah, just text me when you’re on your way over so I can send you the gate code.” 

Oh. Okay then. Suzanne and Jenna are hanging out. Alone. Great! 

Tori spends most of the rest of lunch trying to come up with a way to ask “Hey why are you hanging out with Jenna?” that doesn’t make her sound like an absolutely raging beyotch. 

That clearly doesn’t exist so she just doesn’t say anything. 

Which also turns out to be the wrong choice because Suzanne is all over her as soon as they finish lunch. Offering tampons and ibuprofen and tums and whatever else she keeps in her locker-slash-pharmaceutical cupboard.

“Suze, I’m fine,” Tori says. “Seriously.” 

“Alright, alright,” Suzanne says, putting multiple bottles of god knows what back into her locker. “You just got _so_ quiet.” 

“I just have a lot of my mind,” Tori says, which. It’s not a lie exactly, but she’s not sure a loop of Suzanne wistfully recounting Jenna kissing her girlfriend on a yacht can really be considered, ‘a lot.’ 

God if she couldn’t talk to Jenna about her shit before, she’s _definitely_ not going to be able to talk about it now. 

It’s a bad idea. And unlike when she called Peter, Tori is stone cold sober when she does it. Which, you know, she better be given that it’s 11 am and she’s at school. 

Her and Molly are sitting in the library during free period, though Molly doesn’t seem to be doing much homework, texting furiously to someone on her phone. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Tori says, and Molly just hums in response, still looking at her phone. 

Tori’s stomach twists hard and uncomfortable, like her entire body is rebelling against the idea, but honestly she’s running out of options fast. Especially if Jenna and Suzanne giggling outside of first period this morning is any indication. 

Chloe Lyman looks up at her in surprise when Tori walks up to her study carrel in the library. “Um, hi Tori.” 

“Hey,” Tori says, heart right behind her tonsils. “Um, did you have a partner yet for the poster presentations in English?” 

Chloe frowns. “Yeah, sorry, I’m working with Emily.” 

Cool, alright there goes her totally casual excuse for trying to spend some time with Chloe and maybe talk about her bi crisis with basically the only person she knows who might kind of understand. 

“Oh um, okay. Nevermind then,” Tori says, and then half goes to turn on her heel, when another terrible horrible complete trainwreck of an idea pops into her head. “Hey, did you, did you guys find a sixth member of your team?” 

“Team?” Chloe asks, eyebrows crinkling. “You mean for,” she lowers her voice, “The Great American Challenge.” 

Tori nods, the ends of her hair bouncing against her face. 

“No, actually. We still need another person,” Chloe says very slowly. 

“Well. If you want it,” she gestures at herself, “I am a person.” 

Chloe actually. Kind of smiles at her. “Oh hey that’s great, here let me add you to our group chat. We’re having a strategy session at my house this weekend.” 

“Neat-o,” Tori says. 

Chloe Lyman, does not fuck around apparently. Tori had maybe been expecting like, the vague idea of a plan as mostly an excuse to hang out and drink a few beers. But no, when Tori walks into her living room (which is super weird to see in person after having only seen it in the doc), she fully has a spreadsheet open and projected onto the back wall. 

“Holy fucking moly,” Riley says coming in behind her. 

“Wait, why is my ‘weakness’ listed as ‘beer’?” Suzanne asks, already curled up and comfortable on a couch. “I like beer.” 

“Yeah, but it makes you super sleepy,” Chloe says. “And we’re going to need your puzzle prodigy skills as sharp as possible.” 

“I am good,” Suzanne says with a shrug, and that _is_ an understatement. She’d seen with her own eyes Suzanne do an entire 500 piece puzzle in about 40 minutes while Tori did bio homework at her house. 

Tanner passes Tori a tablet with an actual, honest to god, survey on it, supposedly to figure out what exactly her strengths and weaknesses for the team would be. It’s absurd and way over the top, but she can’t deny that. It is kind of actually fun. And it’s a nice ego boost when Andrew whoops and pats her on the back when she volunteers to take the heavy lifting on the handle of vodka. 

It takes about three hours, but at the end of it they have a plan that actually seems to make a fair bit of sense, though Chloe insists they should order pizza to double check that everyone’s guesses about how many slices they can eat will be accurate. 

Tori slips off while they’re waiting for the delivery so she can call back her step-mom who’s left three voicemail messages about needing help changing her phone password. 

“I saw on facebook you have to change it every four months so it won’t be hacked,” Victoria says, and Tori figures it’s easier to just walk her through it than try and explain why, no, the hacker database does not update every 5 months. 

She’s just hanging up when Andrew comes out of the two-piece bathroom by the kitchen, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. Like he’s been crying. 

Which okay, Tori is not necessarily “good with emotions” on a normal day, least of all her friend’s boyfriend’s emotions, but she’s standing _right there_ and it feels wrong not to say anything. 

“Hey, what’s up?” she settles on finally, hoping it’ll sound more casual and less forced than an ‘is everything okay.’

Andrew sighs and shakes his head, “No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s totally stupid.” 

Tori is about to nod and go get Riley when he sighs and says, “It’s just. I just kinda realized like, this is the last year with the puzzle of my mom probably, right? Because after I graduate there’s no more Lundgardens at St. Bernie’s so. Why would we do a puzzle of _my_ mom, ya know?” 

Tori nods, though she’s not entirely sure she’s catching the point. “My brother Craig he didn’t. Like he wasn’t solely responsible for starting the Great American Challenge, but it was him and some of his buddies who started it and that’s why the puzzle was our mom. And then like, there was Jason and Travis and me so there was always someone to keep it going.” 

Andrew wipes at his face again. “I guess just like. I’m sure it will continue after we’re gone, and it’ll probably change and that’s okay. I mean it used to be a pack of cigarettes instead of a Juul pod, which, so nasty. But I just kinda feel like. Will anyone even remember us in a few years? Like. Probably not.” 

Andrew plonks himself down in one of Chloe’s bar stools. “I guess I’m just afraid of the impermanence of legacy, real original I know.” 

He rolls his eyes and Tori tries not to look surprised at how genuinely thrown off she is to hear Andrew being thoughtful and self-reflective about Skip Day of all things. 

“I’m bi,” She says, blurts, entirely without meaning to. But it feels like. It feels right somehow? Like it’s fair for her to be vulnerable when he was too. “I haven’t told anyone that yet but um. Yeah.” 

She’s not expecting him to react badly, but she really doesn’t expect him to break into a huge grin and hold up a hand for her to high-five. 

“Tori, that’s so dope,” Andrew says, “Oh my god, you know that Wonder Woman is bi? So you know, good company and all that! Also Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy and Sara Lance.” 

“I know who one of those people is,” Tori says, and maybe on another day she’d be annoyed that Riley’s boyfriend is trying to bond with her about comic books, something she’s never been interested in. But it’s nice. He’s being nice to her in his own Andrew Lundgarden way. 

“I’m um, I haven’t told Riley— Like I’m going to. But maybe just. Keep it on the D.L.?” 

Andrew nods. “Yeah, no I totally get it. It’s like when my brother Travis came out as gay to the bros before our parents. It’s a process.” 

Which oh my _god_ is Tori ever going to have a crush on a dude who isn’t gay? 

“There you guys are!” Riley says. “C’mon pizza’s here, and you better be able to eat six pieces daddio,” she says, draping herself over Andrew’s shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. 

“Hey, I’ve got the skills,” Andrew says, getting up and (attempting) to flex. “Hey thanks for the talk, Tori. You’re the best.” 

“Yeah, you too,” Tori says, and finds that she actually kind of means it. 

Tori’s sitting on the boyfriend couch at Anthropologie, Riley and Molly both insisting that they have absolutely _nothing_ to wear to Skip Day, and even if Tori had rolled her eyes a bit, she can’t help but love playing judge jury and executioner when it comes to her friends fashion choices. 

Maybe it’s because Suzanne’s not there (she tries not to think too hard about the fact that Suzanne’s not there because she’s hanging out with Jenna. Again.), but when Molly comes out of the dressing room in a nearly identical looking fuzzy sweater to all the many other fuzzy sweaters that she owns, Tori finds herself blurting, “I’m bi.” 

Molly’s eyes go kind of wide in surprise but Riley goes, “Wait, wait, hold on what was that? I’m not ready,” emerging twenty seconds later in a half zipped up dress. 

“What’s happening?” Riley asks. 

“I’m bi,” Tori says again, more sure and less compulsive. “I wanted to tell you guys.” 

Molly’s face crumples a little bit and for a half second Tori thinks that this is about to go very very very badly, but instead she just squeezes herself onto the boyfriend bench and hugs Tori so tightly that it feels like all the anxiety and worry and stress of the last few months is being leeched from her body by the intensity of the hug. 

“Thank you so much for telling us that,” Molly says when she pulls away, eyes slightly damp. 

“Alright scoot, I’m getting in on this love fest,” Riley says, somehow managing to squeeze herself onto the bench and wrapping an arm around Tori. “You know Wonder Woman’s bisexual too.” 

“Oh my god Andrew _literally_ said the same thing when I told him,” Tori says and then backtracks quickly. “I didn’t mean to tell him before you guys I promise I just. He was there and he was all sad about the puzzle of his mom and it just kind of. Popped out.” 

Riley pets her hair. “Yeah he sneaks up on you like that.” 

Molly presses her face into Tori’s shoulder, “Um, I don’t want to step on your moment, but if we’re being honest there’s kind of something I need to tell you.” 

“Oh my god are you bi too?” Riley blurts. 

Molly actually takes a second to think about it. “No. No I don’t think so. But um. I sort of invited this guy to Skip Day?” 

“A boy!?” Tori says. “Who? From St. B’s?” 

Molly shakes her head. “No, um, not exactly.” 

Riley stands up. “Wait is this who you’re always freakin’ texting?” 

“Mol, oh my god did we all just not live through a real-life afterschool special about the dangers of catfishing?” Tori says. 

“No, I’ve met him before he’s. Do you guys remember Ming Zhang? Did some filming for the doc with Peter and Sam?” 

“Wait, hold up, you invited _Ming Zhang_ to skip day!?” Riley says. 

“Um. Yeah,” Molly says, pushing some hair behind her ear. “I didn’t. I don’t know we added each other on snapchat and then we just started like, snapping each other sometimes— platonic friends stuff, Riley, don’t give me that face — and then he asked for my number so we could text. And. Yeah, I invited him to Skip Day. He’s in Vancouver now so he’s not _that_ far away.” 

“So are you like, actually dating?” Tori asks. 

“No, but I think we both want to? I think? I thought if, you know, he was here in person it would be easier for us to figure out.” 

“Oh so _that’s_ why you didn’t want to do the Great American Challenge,” Riley says. 

Molly makes a face at her. “No, I didn’t want to do the Great American Challenge because it sounds like a good way to make yourself barf. I’m not about that, whether or not a boy I like is there.” 

“Alright, alright, Tor can you unzip me?” Riley asks, completely nonchalant, like Tori didn’t just tell her that she was attracted to girls. Like absolutely nothing has changed. Tori hasn’t cried this entire time, didn’t even feel the impulse, but she actively has to swallow around a lump in her throat as she unzips the back of Riley’s dress. 

“Hey,” Molly says getting up to go back into her dressing room. “You know we still love you, this doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” 

Molly beams. “Okay good. Just checking.” 

“You also know this doesn’t change anything for me either. I’m still going to tell you I’m not letting you walk out of here with another one of these sweaters.” 

“But it’s _cooooooozy_ ,” Molly huffs melodramatically as she goes back into her dressing room. 

Tori takes a Lyft to the Airbnb with Molly, who is nervously checking her phone every five minutes and practically vibrating with excitement. The rest of Tori’s Great American Challenge team is already there, by request of Chloe, who wanted to go over some last minute details. 

Here’s what Tori actually remembers from the Great American Challenge. 

Tanner Bassett just absolutely _destroying_ like 8 or 9 beers, the smell of the mint Juul pod, Riley picking off the jalapenos on her slices of pizza and forcing them onto Andrew, the burn of stupidly cheap vodka, and Chloe going “I think I’m going to puke,” only for everyone to start yelling that if she’s going to puke she needs to do it away from the puzzle. 

There’s also a long stretch of Chloe watching Suzanne do the puzzle of Andrew’s mom. Trying to be helpful turning pieces over and putting them into colour groups, even though she’s pretty fucking sloshed at that point for taking the lion’s share on the vodka portion of the challenge. “I’m looking for a piece with a rounded notch and just a bit of white,” Suzanne says, distantly, through a soft dream haze, like a snapchat filter. Or like being drunk because you drank three beers and more vodka than you want to think about in the middle of the day. She vaguely watches herself find a piece, hold it out for Suzanne, Suzanne taking it from her and grinning as she slots it into the puzzle. Everytime Tori blinks it’s like a new little scene, like looking through a View-Master. 

Click. Suzanne with her lip caught between her teeth, face all stern concentration.

Click. Suzanne’s hands flying over the table, everyone else just trying to stay out of the way. 

Click. Suzanne slapping the table and shouting “Done!” Eyes bright, smile wide. 

_I need to tell Suzanne I’m bi_ , Tori thinks distantly as the rest of her team whoop and hug and kiss around her. 

Tori wakes up a little while later in the bland bedroom of the Airbnb. She blinks, groans, and there is a glass of water being pushed into her hands. 

“Hi, welcome back to the land of the living,” Suzanne says. “I brought you ibuprofen.” 

“Thanks,” Tori says, tossing them back with a swig of water. 

Suzanne has her legs stretched out in front of her on top of the duvet, her phone in hand, “I thought leaving you asleep alone at a party was a bad idea,” she says by way of explanation.

“That was nice, you didn’t have to do that,” Tori says, sipping her water. 

Suzanne shrugs, “I wanted to.” 

“Did we win or was drunk me just confused.” 

“Oh!” Suzanne says. “Yeah! We did!” 

“Hooray,” Tori says, only half sarcastically, flinging an arm over her eyes because the midafternoon light is still way too bright even behind a shade. She lies like that for a long minute, the sound of the party still going on downstairs, the sound of what is almost certainly people having sex from the room over, and the focused hollow tap of Suzanne typing. 

Tori pulls her arm down from across her eyes, just slightly, just enough so she can watch Suzanne, the slope of her neck, the way her lips twitch like the ghost of a lip sync as she types. In movies, love always seems to hit people like a punch to the gut, or a car crash. Sudden and violent. But looking at Suzanne, Tori realizes much more like waking up in the morning and seeing it’s snowed overnight. Gently, and yet all consuming. 

Suzanne darts a glance over at her.

“Who are you texting?” Tori says, pulling her arm off her face and sitting up. 

“Jenna.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“What?” 

Tori scrubs a hand over her face, tries to look nonchalant, “Nothing just, you guys have been hanging out a lot. It’s different.” 

“You’re the one who kept saying we should do a better job to make her feel included. You know like, last year?” 

“Yeah, but— ” Tori starts, and can’t find a better way to end it that isn’t _I’m not the one fawning over the idea of Jenna Hawthorne kissing me on a yacht at sunset_ , so she just snaps her mouth closed. “Nevermind. You’re right.” 

“I actually, uh,” Suzanne says, putting her phone on the nightstand. “I should actually sort of tell you something about that.” 

“Okay?” Tori says. Oh god no. Oh please please please no. If Suzanne says her and Jenna are like. Tori can’t even think it to herself. It’s not fair, she _just_ put all of this together. It’s so not fair if Jenna fucking Hawthorne swooped in first, just because Tori’s a little bit slower on the uptake. 

“It’s not bad or anything. Or at least. I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad? You probably won’t,” Suzanne touches her face. “Sorry, I’m being rambly.” 

“Suze, you can tell me,” Tori says, even as her heart kicks into high gear, ready for the worst. Ready to have to pretend to be happy for her which, might actually be worse than Suzanne not— 

“Okay, so,” Suzanne takes a deep breath. “Um, So. I like girls. And guys. Labels are still. Labels are still kind of overwhelming but I guess, basically. Technically. I’m bisexual.” 

Tori nods, god, it really is just salt in the wound for them to have both figured this out at the same time, “And?” She asks promptly. 

“And?” Suzanne echoes, “And what? No that was the whole thing.” 

“Okay but,” Tori waves a hand, “Jenna?” 

Suzanne blinks at her, “Well yeah I talked to Jenna a bunch because, you know, she’s been there before. In a slightly different lesbian way but still. It’s been really helpful.” 

“And?” 

“And that’s it? I don’t— Tori what exactly are you angling for? I just told you I’m not straight that’s kind of a big deal,” Suzanne says, voice tinged with hurt. Fuck. 

“No, oh my god, no that’s awesome Suzanne. It’s totally cool and awesome that you’re not straight. I just thought, maybe like, you and Jenna…..?” 

“Oh god, no, no. She’s hmmm, I like Jenna but she’s,” Suzanne says, ponders for a second, and then shakes her head. “Yeah. Nope.” 

“Cool,” Tori says, relief flooding her so quickly that she has to look away, fingers picking at a loose thread on the duvet. “Also okay, I don’t want to um, step on your moment or anything but— ” 

“But?” Suzanne asks. 

“I’m sort of. Also, bi?” Tori says, feeling heat flood her face. Which, oof, embarrassing.

“For real?” 

Tori laughs nodding, “Yeah. And I was planning on telling you like. Today. I think I actually made a drunk memo about it.” 

She scrambles on the side table for her phone, ignoring the texts and alerts, before opening up her notes folder, which, as usual is filled with little reminders, more than half of the drunk variety. 

“Yeah, here,” Tori says, scooting over on the bed so they’re close together, and opening the latest one, which the message preview helpfully identifies as **Dear sober tori please tell suzanne**. 

Tori tilts the screen for Suzanne. “See? I totally had this planned. I swear I’m not just stealing your thunder.” 

“I wouldn’t care if you were,” Suzanne says quickly, “it actually, makes me feel a lot better. ‘Cause like, I didn’t want to talk to Chloe about it because we’re friends but stuff is still kind of weird you know and— ” 

Her voice cuts off suddenly, and Tori’s about to ask what’s wrong when her eyes land on the bottom of her message. 

**Dear sober tori please tell suzanne your bi**

**ALSO KISS HER**

**Xo**

**Drunk tori**

“I—” Tori says, but then she catches a glimpse of Suzanne’s expression and she doesn’t look horrified or embarrassed or annoyed or angry. 

“Why did you write that?” Suzanne asks, her voice all soft and wistful like it had been in the doc. 

“Um, well,” Tori says, breath coming short like she just ran the beep test. “I sort of maybe. Had some drunk feelings about you being a puzzle goddess. I’ll be super honest I don’t actually remember writing this but. I think Drunk Tori knew what she was talking about.” 

They’re both very still for a moment, and then it’s like they’re magnets being pulled together, Tori neither initiating the kiss nor following Suzanne’s lead, but just meeting her somewhere in the middle. 

And it’s—

And she’s— 

And they’re not on a yacht at sunset in Mykonos, and Suzanne still kind of tastes like that stupid Juul pod and Tori knows she probably has sausage jalapano pizza breath and kissing your friend at the Skip Day Airbnb is like, the clichest of cliches. 

And Tori does not give one single fuck. 

Or she doesn’t until Suzanne loops her arms around Tori’s shoulders for leverage and starts toying with Tori’s bottom lip and suddenly she gives several all at once. 

Her arms have somehow have migrated around Suanne’s back, keeping her in close, and Tori has no fucking clue where her phone went, and she’s just about to experiment with some tongue action when suddenly the door to the room bangs open and there’s Molly and Ming with. A shockingly similar idea. 

“Hey, occupied!” Tori says, aware of the fact that her and Suzanne are basically on top of each other at this point. 

“Uh,” Ming says. “Sorry!” 

“Alright, alright. C’mon, this house has like seven bedrooms,” Molly says, grabbing his hand and pulling her after him, but not before shooting Suzanne and Tori a very enthusiastic thumbs up. 

“Wow,” Tori says, leaning over to fix where the chain of Suzanne’s necklace got turned around in the heat of the moment. “Straight people are right. Love _is_ love.”

**Sam Ecklund** (@SpamEcklund) Jan 15

Don’t let our confidence and bravado fool you, Pete and I really are not the people to help you with your love life. Unless you really want to try our method of doing a project and letting things simmer for six to ten business months. 

**Peter Maldonado** (@PetRMaldo) Jan 15

_Replying to @SpamEcklund_

I mean it’s not the _worst_ advice in the world. 

**Tori Carucci** (@IcePrincessTori) Jan 15

_Replying to @SpamEcklund_

Now you tell me! 

(Can confirm that this method does actually work @SuzeLewis11 ♡♡♡)

**Author's Note:**

> Love and thanks to youshallnotfinditso and evol_love for everything you do to help make sure my ideas see the light of day. You can find my on tumblr where I'm also phonecallfromgod.


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